Chapter 2

She had just crashed into the most intimidating man she had ever seen.

For a second, the noise of the street seemed to disappear. All she could hear was the faint hum of the car parked behind him and the rhythm of her own heartbeat. His black suit looked perfectly tailored, every detail neat enough to make her feel even more disheveled, while a silver watch rested against his wrist, catching the afternoon light whenever he moved.

She glanced past him at the black Rolls-Royce standing at the curb like it belonged in another world. The two men beside it were dressed in dark suits, and nobody looked relaxed around this man. Even the driver kept his eyes forward.

That should have been enough warning for her to apologize and leave, but instead, her temper got there first. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and straightened her uniform. The tray she had been carrying was still pressed against her side, forgotten for the moment.

The stranger looked at the scattered things near their feet, then back at her. He didn't seem angry, and that somehow made him more intimidating. Most people shouted when they were annoyed, but he simply watched, as though he had all the time in the world.

She hated that.

She had spent the day rushing from one problem to another and had no patience left for a rich stranger who looked as though Paris itself belonged to him.

So she did what she always did when nervous. She became stubborn.

Élise slowly looked up, and dark green eyes stared back at her. She forgot how to breathe. They weren't just green. They were the kind of eyes that made people confess things they hadn't done.

“Are you done staring?”

His deep voice snapped her back to reality, and heat rushed to her cheeks.

“I wasn't staring.”

“No?”

“I was wondering why rich people think they own sidewalks.”

One of the bodyguards gasped, while another stepped forward and reached for her arm.

“Don't touch me,” Élise said sharply.

“Stand down,” the man ordered.

The guards immediately stepped back, but he still hadn't taken his eyes off her.

“Do you have a habit of arguing with strangers?”

“Only the arrogant ones.”

For the briefest moment, the corner of his mouth lifted. It wasn't quite a smile.

Élise pulled her wrist free.

“I really don't have time for this.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and sprinted toward the entrance of Club Éclipse.

“Hey!” one of the bodyguards called.

She didn't stop.

Behind her, Massimo Bellini watched her disappear through the glass doors.

“Should we bring her back, sir?” one of his guards asked.

Massimo adjusted the cuff of his suit.

“No.”

He walked inside.

The music hit Élise the moment she entered, and the club was already packed. She barely made it three steps before a familiar voice thundered across the room.

“ÉLISE!”

She froze as Mr. Victor stormed toward her, his face red with anger.

“I thought I told you never to come in late again!”

She swallowed.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Victor. I overslept.”

“Overslept?” His voice echoed over the music. “This is the fourth time this month!”

“I know.”

“No, you don't know. If you did, you wouldn't keep showing up late.”

Several customers turned to watch, making Élise lower her head.

“I'm sorry.”

Mr. Victor let out a frustrated sigh.

“I should fire you.”

She looked up immediately.

“Please don't.”

“I've given you enough chances.”

“I won't be late again.”

“You've said that before.”

He stared at her for a long second before pointing toward the dining floor.

“Go inside and start serving.”

Relief washed over her.

“Thank you.”

“And if you're late one more time...”

“I know.”

“You're fired.”

“Understood.”

She grabbed a serving tray and hurried toward the bar, where the bartender had already lined up several drink orders.

“Table twelve.”

She picked them up, and within minutes, she was weaving through the crowded club.

“Your wine.”

“Thank you.”

“Here's your steak.”

“Enjoy your meal.”

She moved from one table to the next without stopping.

By seven o'clock, she finally had a chance to catch her breath.

“Élise!”

She turned to see her coworker, Sophie, looking desperate.

“Can you help me?”

“What happened?”

“I really need to use the bathroom.”

Élise laughed.

“So go.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

Sophie pointed toward the private VIP section.

“My guest just ordered another bottle, and I promised I'd be right back.”

Élise glanced at the velvet ropes.

“I've never served the VIP section.”

“It's just one table.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

Sophie clasped her hands together.

“Please.”

Élise sighed.

“Fine.”

“I owe you.”

“You owe me dinner.”

“Deal.”

Sophie hurried away before Élise could change her mind.

The bartender placed an expensive bottle of whiskey and two crystal glasses on the counter.

“VIP lounge.”

Élise lifted the tray carefully.

“This bottle probably costs more than my monthly salary.”

The bartender chuckled.

“It does.”

She shook her head.

“Rich people.”

Balancing the tray, she walked toward the VIP section, where a security guard opened the gate for her.

The room was much quieter than the rest of the club, and only one table was occupied. A man sat with his back to her, so she couldn't see his face.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over.

“Good evening, sir. Your whiskey.”

The man slowly turned around.

Élise's heart skipped.

Dark green eyes. The same dark green eyes from outside.

He recognized her instantly.

“So,” he said, his voice calm. “We will meet again.”

Élise stared at him.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

A slow smile appeared on his face.

“I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me.”

She let out a quiet groan.

“Of all the clubs in Paris...”

“What are the odds?”

“They're clearly against me.”

For the first time that evening, Massimo Bellini laughed. It was soft, brief, but real.

Élise blinked. She hadn't expected that, and neither had the

men seated around him. One of them looked at Massimo in disbelief.

Apparently, they weren't used to seeing him smile.